A Star is Formed: Lea Michele and the Cast of Glee
Glee is this television season’s most talked about new show. Sure, Modern Family is funny, and Vampire Diaries manages to faithfully reproduce the hype of Twilight and Buffy, but Glee, despite only middling ratings, is the only show to truly break out, both as a subject of discourse and as the first successful network musical since, well, Cop Rock. (For more on this season’s crop of television shows, including ratings forecasts, see Jonathan Gray’s recent posts on The Extratextuals). The identity politics of the show have sparked the most heated discussions – see Amanda Ann Klein’s insightful reading over at Judgmental Observer, Jezebel’s take-down, and Kelli Marshall’s most recent musings.
I’ll say that I find the show incredibly funny. Especially Jane Lynch (did you see that zoot suit this week? Incredible.) I also think critiques of the stereotypes are misguided, as they’re supposed to be stereotypes – that’s part of the satire — and the show has been taking its sweet time in breaking each stereotype down, instead of immediately hitting us over the head with the quirk and spark that individuates each character. I love the song choices, in part because many of them hail from my own junior high/high school years, as well as the rendering of small town, small school cultural hierarchies. (Full disclosure: I was a cheerleader, and although Jane Lynch wasn’t our coach, we, along with the football players, certainly enjoyed social perks. And while I never slushied anyone, and Glee is certainly hyperbolic, this is a vision of high school, chastity club included, with which I am unfortunately too familiar.)
The songs and dances would never cut it in an actual high school, but this is a musical, people – do we forget the way that musicals are allowed to stop and circumvent time, reality, and fate? Some of the performances are motivated by the narrative, but some, such as Quinn’s torch song or Mercedes’s “Bust Your Windows,” shatter the diegesis. And that’s okay, just as the risqué song selections are okay, because, again, this is neither realism nor reality TV. This is a musical, complete with all of the musical’s attendant genre conventions.
Mercedes Breaks the Digesis (and Busts Your Windows)
Which brings me to the topic of star formation. Musicals are perfect star builders: in part because they allow a particular actor to hold the spotlight for a sustained amount of time, but also because they provide a forked path to identification. Put differently, we are encouraged to identity with the star’s performance within the narrative, as she navigates the various obstacles (usually related to love or success) that cross her path, just as we identity with most protagonists. When Rachel declares in voiceover that “You may think that every guy in the school would, totally, want to tap this, but my MySpace schedule keeps me way too busy to date” or when she actively pines for Finn, or when she submits to blackmail (e.g. hands over a pair of her undergarments) from the dorkiest kid in the school in order to protect a certain piece of information from reaching the blogosphere, we are meant to sympathize and/or empathize with her. As a type-A ambitious female, my ambitions may not have been to make it big on Broadway, but her perfectionism and marginalization provide a prime point of identification.
At the same time, Rachel gets some of the most moving, emotive, and transcendent solos of the series. I know we’re talking pop music and show tunes, and maybe I’m just a sucker for ‘80s hits, but when she sings her part in “Don’t Stop Believin’” and, more recently, “Somebody to Love,” it does something to me, something akin to shivers. It’s a phenomenological response, evoked by the combination of musical harmonies and earnestness: it’s the same unnamable something that makes a song, or a voice, our favorite. To adpt Linda Williams’ conception of the ‘body genres’ – e.g. genres that make our body react physically, either through laughter, fright, or arousal – I would posit that the music alternately incites feelings of viscerally felt pathos and, well, glee.
Put differently, the musical numbers and solos, especially those coupled with choreographed dance, arouse something unnamable and unexplainably pleasurable. I don’t know exactly why I feel happiness watching the finely calibrated movements of a group of dancers – whether paired with Gene Kelly in Singin’ in the Rain, Astaire and Rogers in The Gay Divorcee, or Glee’s competition dancing to Amy Winehouses’s “Rehab.” But I do. Similarly, I don’t know why I feel the flipside of that pleasure – a pure and sorrowful sadness/yearning – when I watch Rachel emote, or Judy Garland sing “Somewhere Over the Rainbow,” or Ewan McGregor and Nicole Kidman sing “My Dying Day” in Moulin Rouge.
The musical thus encourages a cerebral and physical engagement with the star: I like and identify with the character; I feel inexplicably, viscerally moved by the musical performances. Thus I don’t feel drawn to a particular Glee character until he/she is featured in a solo: when Puck sang “Sweet Caroline” last week, I was his forever.
Puck Sings Neil Diamond…and wins me over.
Which perhaps explains at least part of the cult of fandom around musical figures, whether Judy Garland, Barbra Streisand, or, to some extent, Michael Jackson, who certainly participated in his share of musical narratives. It might even help to explain the cult of Audrey Hepburn (also evoked in this week’s episode) who, with the help of the magic of dubbing, sang her way through My Fair Lady. (It also explains the way that American Idol narrativizes the lives and development of its contestants – their performances will make us like them, but it’s the narrative, including tidbits of past experience, strife, and success, that permits identification).
Most movie stars require interviews, profiles, and photo shoots to flesh out the ‘ordinary’ compliment to their extraordinary roles. Yet the musical star provides the extraordinary/ordinary paradox each and every time she appears. In other words, Rachel gets to be ‘ordinary’ during the majority of the show – walking down hallways, washing Slushies from her hair – and ‘extraordinary’ the moment she breaks into song. A third ‘real’ layer may further embellish the equation, providing a feedback loop of self-referential material (see Garland and Streisand). But it is not truly necessary. The dual-layered performance is sufficient.
Since its premiere, the Glee publicity team – both for the show itself and for the individual actors – have attempted to court media attention. The move has proved moderately successful – as Lainey points out, the leads got ‘papped’ the other day, they’re on the recent cover of Entertainment Weekly, and Lea Michele was featured in a front end US Weekly fashion spread.
What’s more, nearly all of the actors — and all of the young ones — are active on Twitter. At this point, however, the stars are enough of unknowns that the ‘real’ them is predicated almost entirely on their ability to reproduce the other ‘real’ them – e.g. the ‘real’ characters on Glee, the ones visible when not performing. Thus Chris Colfler, who plays the flamboyent Kurt, is conveniently homosexual in ‘real life,’ and his recent call for Twitter followers to come up with Sue Sylvester jokes launched her name into the Twitter trending topics. Why? Because it reproduced the Kurt image the show – the selfsame image that people want to believe characterizes the quotidian life of Cofler.
This conclusion might seem contradictory, as I’m at once asserting that the stars of musical are, by default, stars – but, at the same time, they cannot escape their picture personalities, which is usually a sign of the non-star. So be it. It’s contradictory, but it’s the musical – and I should probably just evade the contradiction, as musicals are wont to do, by breaking into song:
The New York Times Totally Stole My Blog Post!
….and other complaints. If you’re a long-time (read: two month) follower of the blog, you’ll recall a post from late June, entitled “A Star-Less Summer?” in which I contemplated the failure of recent star-headed films (Land of the Lost, Imagine That, Pelham 123) and the success of high concept. The rest of the summer season confirmed that prediction: as August draws to a close, the top seven grossers line-up as such:
1 | Transformers: Revenge of the Fallen | P/DW | $397,470,858 | 4,293 | $108,966,307 | 4,234 | 6/24 | - |
2 | Up | BV | $288,510,371 | 3,886 | $68,108,790 | 3,766 | 5/29 | - |
3 | Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince | WB | $287,705,000 | 4,455 | $77,835,727 | 4,325 | 7/15 | - |
4 | The Hangover | WB | $267,238,000 | 3,545 | $44,979,319 | 3,269 | 6/5 | - |
5 | Star Trek | Par. | $256,133,843 | 4,053 | $75,204,289 | 3,849 | 5/8 | - |
6 | Monsters Vs. Aliens | P/DW | $198,291,863 | 4,136 | $59,321,095 | 4,104 | 3/27 | - |
7 | Ice Age: Dawn of the Dinosaurs | Fox | $191,646,521 | 4,102 | $41,690,382 | 4,099 | 7/1 |
(All gross figures taken from Boxofficemojo.com). With the success of District 9 (starless — the lead performer had never even appeared in a feature film) and lots of fingers crossed over Inglorious Basterds (which seems to have just fine), the press was ready to make some big assertions.
First Huge Claim: A-List stardom is dead.
The Times published a short piece, “A-List Stars Flailing at Box Office,” with large pictures of Denzel Washington, Will Farrell, and Julia Roberts telling us that they can no longer ensure an audience. Choice quotes include:
“The spring and summer box office has murdered megawatt stars like Denzel Washington, Julia Roberts, Eddie Murphy, John Travolta, Russell Crowe, Tom Hanks, Adam Sandler and Will Ferrell.”
““Imagine That,” starring Mr. Murphy, was such a disaster that Paramount Pictures had to take a write-down. Mr. Sandler? His “Funny People” limped out of the gate and then collapsed. Some of these may simply have not been very good, but an A-list star is supposed to overcome that.”
“This weekend, Mr. Pitt has an opportunity to stop the bleeding. His “Inglourious Basterds,” an R-rated Nazi thriller directed by Quentin Tarantino, arrived in theaters Friday. Harvey Weinstein and The Weinstein Company built the marketing campaign for the film almost entirely around Mr. Pitt.
And the actor may pull it off — kind of. Mr. Weinstein contends that Mr. Pitt’s drawing power is not remotely in question. “Brad Pitt is a super-superstar at the apex of his popularity, and he’s a large part of why people want to see this movie,” he said.”
I don’t disagree with those claims — and they’re certainly supported by the box-office grosses of big, starry films this summer. But I also think that it’s not that people no longer love stars . Stars can be just as ‘high concept’ as a film based on alien prawns in South Africa or toys from our childhood, as Justin Wyatt has made clear. What’s missing — and here’s where I’d like to revise my original post on the star-less summer — is quality. I’m not talking Oscar-bait quality. I’m talking quality genre fare, quality in scripts written to play up a given star’s persona, quality in marketing, editing, length. The Times does briefly gesture this way, explaining that “Talent agents argue that stars are not to blame, faulting script concepts that fail to translate to the screen, poor release dates, awkward marketing or ill-advised efforts by popular actors to stretch in new directions.”
As my friend Colin pointed out, it isn’t so much that audiences didn’t want to see stars, but that the star-headed movies just weren’t that good. I’m not saying that Transformers was ‘good’ — but there’s a reason that a tightly plotted rom-com like The Proposal beat out the rather horrendous The Ugly Truth. Both are star-vehicles, both are genre pics — but one is simply smarter, more enjoyable, funnier, better fit to the star’s persona, and with more chemistry than the other. That’s the reason it’s grossed $260 million international on a $40 million budget, whereas The Ugly Truth has pulled in just under $92 million on a budget of $38 million.
And as Kristen and Courtney reminded me, this very article — or very close variations on it — has been published every year. I’ve personally run across it several times during my research this summer — Neal Gabler predicting the demise of stardom and a reversion to the studio system following Paramount chairman Sumner Redstone’s public admonishment of Tom Cruise, the Times citing a different set of academics making the very same claims about the statistical proof that stars do not ensure movie hits, this article in the British press on the new reliance on untested talent.
But stars have NEVER ensured movie hits. NEVER. Cary Grant starred in just as many stinkers and middling films as successes. Marlene Dietrich, Garbo, Bette Davis, Katherine Hepburn, Fred Astaire, Joan Crawford — all were either labeled ‘box office poison’ or declared unable to carry a film at one point or another in the ’30s and ’40s. After early success, Brando couldn’t carry a film to save his life. Jimmy Stewart, Elizabeth Taylor, Julie Andrews — all had huge hits and mammoth disasters. Julia Roberts may have had a streak of big films in the late ’90s, but are we forgetting the seven films she made after Sleeping with the Enemy — all of them stinkers? Tom Hanks in Bonfire of the Vanities? Joe Versus the Volcano? Last Action Hero? Billy Bathgate? Cutthroat Island? The Postman? Waterworld? Last Action Hero?
Just One of the Big Star Bombs of the Early 1990s
And the idea, as one article cites, that big stars are being passed over for untested talent — well, of course. How did the big stars become stars in the first place? Because a big star passed (or was passed over) and they got a shot — as in the case of Julia Roberts and her role in Pretty Woman, which every major female star in the business nixed. But the case of Twilight — which the critics have been holding up as an example of no-star filmmaking — is instructive. First, this is a teen movie, with a tremendously presold product. Second, they were limited in who they could cast: even if Summit had the money to pay stars (which it didn’t) who could they have cast? Zach Efron and Miley Cyrus? And for the Native American character? True, they’re refusing to grant Kristen Stewart, Robert Pattinson, and Taylor Lautner points off the gross, and they’ve hired some bigger names for the sequels (Michael Sheen, Dakota Fanning, Bryce Howard). But Twilight, like any number of teen genre pics over the past 50 years, is not a star vehicle. It’s a concept vehicle, with a handsome vampire to fill the pre-sold concept of Edward. It’s not Robert Pattinson who girls are ga-ga over: it’s Edward, with Pattinson’s face attached. This is a key distinction. For big-star vehicles, it’s the other way around: Tom Cruise, with some character’s particular life attached; Julia Roberts, with some zany romance life attached. The STAR is the high concept, not the plot, or the vampire romance on which it is based.
Edward Cullen is the star — not Pattinson
I digress. Returning to my original point, people — whether those people are in the industry, in the press, or in the audience — somehow hold to this idea that big star = big hit. Dyer pointed out in 1977 that star presence could not, and never has, ensured a hit. The beauty of the studio system was that a dud didn’t sink a studio, or even a star — he was already slotted for at least three more a year, all of them with controlled budgets, and his star could and would be recovered. The dynamics of film financing have changed dramatically — and films now do ride on the shoulders of a single star.
But I think it’s unfair to blame the stars for this summer’s flops. Or perhaps our ‘blame’ is misguided: instead of saying that the stars are dead, or at least not viable, it should be that the stars — and the studios who finance their films — have failed to create pairings (and advertisement for those pairings) between content and star that will better insure success. Will Ferrell in a movie about time travel to a dinosaur world? Adam Sandler in a comedy with a very serious third act? And as for the soft success of Angels and Demons and Public Enemies, I can only say that the public’s interest in the Dan Brown series has seriously dampened (was The Da Vinci Code that memorable? Especially with Hanks’ hair?) and Public Enemies should have been a smaller, cheaper film.
Finally, Inglourious Basterds isn’t doing well because it stars Brad Pitt. Pitt’s face might be all over the posters, but that’s Weinstein’s doing. It’s a Tarantino film, plain and simple. That’s the ‘pre-sold’ quality — Pitt is just an added bonus.
Ultimately, I’m frustrated with the rehearsal of the same arguments at the end of each cycle, whether post-Oscars or end-of-summer. So long as studios continue to retrench with remakes, conservative remakes, and half-hearted attempts to recreate past success, the stars placed in those films as a means of bedazzlement will continue to fail as well. A star doesn’t make a good movie. A good movie, including help of a charismatic performance, will make or help sustain a star.
The Second Huge Claim: Twitter is Changing the Game
I’d been seeing a bunch of articles and blog posts detailing the ways in which Twitter sank Bruno and led to the huge second week drop-off for G.I. Joe. Anne Thompson pointed to this article in The Baltimore Sun, which claims
While word of mouth could always make or break a movie, it usually took days to affect the box office. But the rise of social networking tools like Twitter may be narrowing that time frame to mere hours. And that has Hollywood on edge.
This summer, movies such as “Bruno” and ” G.I. Joe” have had unexpected tumbles at the box office - just within their opening weekends - while “Transformers: Revenge of the Fallen” survived blistering critical reaction to become a blockbuster.
Box-office watchers say the dramatic swings may be caused by Twitter and other social networking sites that can blast instant raves - or pans - to hundreds of people just minutes after the credits roll.
Ad Age has also been keen to underline a correlation between Tweets and box office success — they’ve created a chart that tracks the number of Tweets, release dates, and success of the top five films. Their conclusion: the more Tweets, the better the performance. Hrm. Sort of. Alisa Perren directed me to David Poland’s posts here and here (scroll up from the comments), both of which do a pretty great job of debunking the myth of the Twitter-Success correlation.
Like Alisa, I see such reporting as a continuation of the hype over the Iran Twitter ‘Revolution’ — it’s a sexy topic, but it’s rather unfounded. As Chuck Tryon and others have discussed, taste ‘authority’ has certainly been shaken up in the years since the rise of the internet, online reviewers, and social media — fewer people look to major reviewers to determine the weekend’s film, and movies like Transformers are labeled ‘critic-proof.’ I definitely agree that ‘authority’ has been dispersed. But as communications scholars have studied for decades, people have always looked to culture ‘authorities’ — whether in their own families, friend groups, larger communities, or Facebook friend feed, Twitter feed, or alternative news source — for advice or direction on what to see. While I make it my business to research and know about most films released, including festival buzz, time in post-production, budget, problems, fanfare, etc. (and so do many people reading this blog) we are obviously in the minority. Which isn’t a critique of people who don’t read Variety and Nikkie Finke. We’re the weird ones. Most people rely on others — people like us, or people who are less scholarly film-buffs, or even just their son or daughter — to figure out what they’ll see or rent. Twitter supplies another source of such authority, and it also allows users to search to see what people outside of their friend group are saying, but it has by no means revolutionalized the way that word-of-mouth functions. Sleeper hits, whether Blair Witch Club, My Big Fat Greek Wedding, or even Love Story, District 9, March of the Penguins, rely on strong word-on-mouth. These days, word-of-mouth includes digital-word-of-keyboard.
A piece of District 9′s Brilliant Marketing Campaign
But it’s also a matter of marketing, as District 9, Blair Witch, and Love Story - all films with brilliant marketing campagins — make abundantly clear. And here’s the wrap-around concluding point: no film can succeed simply because it has a star, strong social media and spoken word-of-mouth, a great script, a pre-sold property, or fantastic marketing/studio support, which includes a proper release date. Perhaps it needs to have four of the five, or at least three of the five. But when more than two are missing — as in the case of the big flops of the summer — who are we to blame? What kind of story do we write? Perhaps that’s the listlessness that led so many critics — including A.O. Scott and Ebert — to write vitriolic indictments of the industry and its offerings. I don’t entirely agree with their conclusions — but I understand the feelings of confusion, anger, and sadness.
How to Mend a Drug Scandal in Three Steps or Less: Heath Ledger and Wallace Reid
This month’s Vanity Fair
There’s been a bit of fanfare over Peter Biskind’s recent Vanity Fair piece on Heath Ledger — available only in summary form here. (You know, for those of you interested in celebrity, Vanity Fair costs a ridiculous $12 dollars a year — definitely worth it for the airplane reads alone, let alone glossy photos).
Biskind is a well-known Hollywood ‘historian,’ best known for his book on the ‘silver age of Hollywood,’ Easy Riders, Raging Bulls, and his look back on the rise and fall of the ’90s indie movement, Down and Dirty Pictures. (Both of which are required reading in each and every Tom Schatz class — I think I’ve read or skimmed some sections five times now). Biskind is also a regular contributor to Vanity Fair, a past editor-in-chief of Premiere, and a general smut-monger. If you’ve read his books, you understand — he loves stories — the more lurid, the better. There are a few in his books that genuinely test the limits of good taste. He doesn’t care whether they’re true or not — he even oftentimes reports a counter-narrative — but loves to put such things in print. It certainly sells. One of my advisors (on friendly terms with Biskind) told me that he never does research — has no theoretical or Variety background, never goes to archives — but remembers EVERYTHING that ANYONE has ever told him in an interview.
In other words, he’s perfect for Vanity Fair, which loves to make any story — whether it’s about Bernie Madoff, Sarah Palin, or Heath Ledger — into a melodramatic, thrilling tale of smut, back-stabbing, andhe-said/she-said. The celebrity profiles are notorious soft, but they’re also responsible for some of the most notorious recent celebrity admissions: Brad Pitt basically admitting that he doesn’t think that marriage is forever (when he was still married to Aniston); Angelina Jolie disclosing that her rendezvous with certain men in hotel rooms for sexual gratification (and nothing more) so that she could concentrate on being a mother to newly-adopted Maddox.
This look to Heath Ledger is a nice combination of the Biskind and VF-profile style. Usually, this sort of piece would NOT be the cover — VF subjects are usually living, promoting something, and hot. But when “new information” about a beloved figure is discovered (or manufactured), it sometimes spurs a cover: sometimes with Marilyn, othertimes with a Kennedy, and this most recent cover with Ledger.
A Los Angeles Times columnist has declared the article “celebrity porn,” ridiculing the Biskind/VF style and claiming,
Virtually everything in the piece, even the tales of how Ledger pals Johnny Depp, Colin Farrell and Jude Law volunteered to help Gilliam finish “Parnassus” after Ledger’s death, has been reported elsewhere. After a while, you start to focus less on Biskind’s meddlesome reporting and more on Gilliam, asking yourself: Why is the filmmaker still talking endlessly about Ledger 18 months after his death? Is it just because he lost a friend and collaborator? Or is it because Gilliam knows that a Vanity Fair cover story will help him continue to beat the drums for his movie, which still hasn’t found a U.S. distributor?
Excellent point. And I’m sure this was, at least in part, strategic on the part of Gilliam — he realized that rousing anticipation for the film would encourage distributors to bid for the film, which, from the sounds of it, promises to be as weird as The Fountain meets Alice in Wonderland.
But the article also serves a less overt or financial function — in providing the details of Ledger’s life, demeanor, and artistry, including his emotions and actions in the months and days leading up to his death, it soothes concerns and provides a form of cultural ‘closure’ to the rupture that was his unexpected death by drug overdose. When a celebrity dies in some ‘scandalous’ way — most commonly drug use, sometimes, as in the case of Keith Carradine, in a more illicit fashion — it tears a hole, if you will, in the ideological fabric that resassures us of societal solidity and our place within. Put differently, an unexpected death makes us question what we believed to be true.
For instance, I had no connection to Heath Ledger. I greatly admired his performance in Brokeback Mountain and knew of his upcoming role as the Joker, but was not what I would term a ‘fan.’ Yet I remember exactly where I was when I heard NPR announce his death — and keenly recall how surprised I was. I had a vision of Ledger as a doting father and, albeit separated from Michelle Williams, not in danger of eminent death. I had heard the stories of his ‘absorption’ into the role of the Joker — and Jack Nicholson’s words of advice on maintaining the self, lest it be sucked into the psychosis — but that didn’t mean I thought he was going to die. His death thus served, for me and millions of others, as a surprise — especially as it was laden with smutty overtones in the early hours of reporting, when it was associated with one of the Olson twins, a masseuse, dozens of pills, nakedness, etc.
What we need, then, to resolve this problem, to restitch this hole, to reassure us that method acting isn’t destructive, that we didn’t pay money to see a money slowly killing himself onscreen, that handsome young talented men don’t succumb to addiction, is an answer: some sort of reckoning.
In the case of Ledger, this has been accomplished in two ways:
1.) The overwhelming awarding of his performance in The Dark Knight.
I’m in no way saying that the performance wasn’t incredible, or didn’t merit recognition. But awarding it certainly served as an affirmation of Ledger’s talent — that his life, and specifically this peformance, was not for naught. To NOT award it would be tantamount to declaring his life — and the method of his death — to be a scandal, unworthy, worthy of scorn.
2.) This Vanity Fair article — and others of its ilk.
Here I turn to another drug scandal — one that few remember yet rocked Hollywood when it occurred. Along with the Fatty Arbuckle scandal, the death of Wallace Reid (due to complications from withdrawl from heroin) is considered one of the greatest scandals of the classic period. As mentioned, it’s generally forgotten, but as a compelling chapter in Headline Hollywood (Mark Lynn Anderson’s “Shooting Star: Understanding Wallace Reid and His Public) explains, the scandal of Reid’s death was not only a huge scandal — but also a huge victory for the newly organized Hays Office, which successfully parlayed what could have been a story of Hollywood excess and sin into a narrative of a star sacrificing his all for his public and a “national lesson” for the masses.
Briefly, the Hays Office was instituted — at the insistence of the studios — to regulate Hollywood films, which were under fire from all sides for ‘encouraging vice.’ Instead of subjecting themselves to a national regulatory agency, the studios decided to regulate themselves. The Arbuckle scandal was the final straw in putting the agency in place — not only would it regulate the content of films, but the behavior of the actors as well. With the Hays Office in place, there would be no more drunken fat men supposedly raping starlettes in hotel rooms!
But then Wallace Reid succumbed to heroic addiction. In the early ’20s, Reid was one of the biggest stars — rivaled only by Pickford and Fairbanks — with a star image as a strapping young man who, at least in his film roles, would exhaust himself for the sake of the greater good (laboring all night to help others out of a mine disaster, for example). Thus the idea of his addiction rang incredibly out of character — how could such a strong body fall victim to such a drug?
Therefore, before he died — when he was in treatment — his wife, with help from the Hays Office, helped to create a brilliant media manipulation that framed Reid’s addiction as:
a.) the product of an early on-set injury (he became addicted to pain killers after a back inury). His addiction was thus transformed into a something that occured while he was trying to get back into shape to do his job for the people — he just wanted to please his public!
b.) the fault of a national crime syndicate. Constructed as such, it reinforced federal calls for a national crack-down on drugs (the first war against drugs — quickly followed by prohibition, which probably should have taught us a lesson about wars on addictive substances). He was thus a figurehead for larger governmental forces — and a VICTIM!!
c.) using MORPHINE, not heroin. Heroin was a poor people’s drug — and thus had to be disassociated with film stars, which were already on a slippery slope as members of the nouveau riche. But morphine — that was a high class drug. It’s like the difference, today, between crack and cocaine. Or maybe between meth and prescription drugs.
Wallace Reid’s widow even participated in a film against drug use — the equivalent of a PSA for “don’t use drugs,” only not as thoroughly as acknowledged as propaganda. In the end, Wallace Reid’s star was recuperated — instead of a junkie, he was transformed into a victim, both of his desire to please and devious men of ill-repute.
So how does this relate to Heath Ledger?
While the Biskind article is neither as sincere nor bald-faced manipulative as the discourse surrouding the Reid overdose, there’s a fair amount of image repair going on throughout the piece.
First: Remind us of the immense talent lost
“This final performance, while not the tour de force of weirdness that was the Joker, is good neough — more than good enough — to remind us that Leger’s death has deprived the movies of one of their most accomplished, and promising, talents”
Second: Remind us of his immense commitment to both craft and family
Multiple mentions of his performance in Brokeback Mountain, connection and intense loyalty to Gilliam (for whom he had previous starred in The Brothers Grimm — and who he apparently credits with ‘liberating’ his acting). What’s more, he LOVED his daughter: “above all else, Ledger was devoted to his young daughter and feared he might lose custory. ‘He was absolutely obsessed about Matilida,’” according to Gilliam. And he was such a class act that three top actors agreed to step in and finish the film for him.
As for his break-up with Willaims: She courted stardom, he didn’t. She bought into the Oscar campaigning, he didn’t. He reportedly had an anxiety attack when his handlers tried to turn him into a teen idol. He was the anti-star star: he didn’t want the renown pushed upon him. He was, overall, the victim: of too much talent and too much audience fascination.
Third: Explain and innoculate his addiction.
Ledger was on drugs because: 1.) He had battled pneumonia, 2.) He was overworked (only two weeks between The Dark Knight and Parnassus) 3.) He was in a constant struggle with insomnia — caused by anxiety over needing/wanting to see his daughter after the separation from Williams. The only release he found was in massage, acting exercises, and, apparently pills.
Importantly, the death was not the result of an OVER-dose, but a negative combination of doses. He had too many things in his system - he was not hedonistic in his abuse, just needy for release.
Even more importantly, the cause of his anxiety was NOT (or at least entirely linked to) his role as the Joker — instead, it was the confluence of over-work and dedication to craft and family that precipitated his death. This is an essential move: for if it was the role as the Joker that caused his death, we, as an audience, would in effect be pleasuring in his demise each and every time we viewed, and found pleasure, in his performance as The Joker. Audience guilt assuaged.
Now, please bare in mind that I’m not saying that Ledger isn’t any of things this article claims of him — or that he didn’t care about his daughter, wasn’t dedicated to his craft, etc. I’m just looking to way that the discourse concerning those dedications is deployed to mend over the rupture created by his death — and how such narratives can still prove effective, even 18 months after the event. Star drug abuse, like any other star scandal, demands a reckoning. Some reckonings — like this one — are simply employed more deftly, and more invisibly, than others.
'Pedamundo,' John Mayer, and the Power of the Celebrity Tweet
You might not know it, but this weekend is PEDAMUNDO. Not a word, you say? Well John Mayer made it up while playing ‘create a word’ with a Spanish speaking friend. He tweeted it. Those who spoke Spanish (amongst his 1.3 million ‘followers’) told him it approximated to ‘drunken party world.’
And so it was on. He soon tweeted “This Friday and Saturday night will be known around the world as Pedamundo. The second weekend of June every year,” then “Pedamundo is coming… The official kickoff to Summer partying. For the people, by the people, in the people.”
Mayer began off-handedly started describing pedamundo, all in broad terms.
When the lyrics to Sweet Child O’ Mine describe your life story, that is Pedamundo.
You know that buzz you have 2.5 drinks in where everything in the world feels achievable? That is Pedamundo.
He then retweeted several followers suggestions for the meaning of Pedamundo:
LOL! RT @noliebro If you could listen to every Beach Boys song instantaneously, it still would lack the feel good summer spirit of Pedamundo
Fantastic!! RT @PhilJFry Live Update from Australia: In honour of Pedamundo, Super Freak is played continuously on major radio networks
RT @bobmaron Midtown Manhattan…. Times Square traffic completely blocked off for Pedamundo tonight!! Expecting over 1M visitors!
And my personal favorite: RT @prossel Here in Canada we’re celebrating Pedamundo in our usual way-being extremely polite, murdering seals and listening to Rush!
Between the first declaration of Pedamundo (Wednesday, June 10th) and Friday, Pedamundo moved in and out of trending topics (for those of you unfamiliar with Twitter, they chart the ten most tweeted ‘topics’ on the side of the screen — today, for example, Iran’s two presidential candidates, Ahmadinejad and Mousavi were both trending topics), before reaching second place late Friday afternoon. Entertainment Weekly blogged about it mid-afternoon. When I checked on Friday afternoon, I had to refresh every few minutes to see the hundreds of thousands of tweets citing/commenting on/describing their own Pedamundo.
At 5:45 EST, Mayer announced that he’s be appearing on Larry King Live to discuss Pedamundo — which I can’t seem to find, and may or may not have in fact occurred.
So what does it mean — and why the hell is it important, or worthy of a blog post? In the grand scheme of things, isn’t this rather insignificant? Well, perhaps.
I addressed some of those questions in my recent piece for FlowTV, which you can find here.
But this particular incident highlights a number of themes:
1.) John Mayer has ingratiated himself to hundreds of thousands of otherwise half-way fans. For while Mayer’s albums sell in the upper thousands, the 1.3 million who follow him are not necessarily fans of his music. Rather, they are fans of his personality. The same goes for Ashton Kutcher: his over 2 million followers are not Kutcher fanatics. Many, like myself, haven’t seen his recent films — but his name is inexorable from Twitter, and he prompted hundreds of thousands to join (in particular during his ‘race’ with CNN).
2.) As such, this event will become part of Mayer’s ‘star text.’ In other words, what Mayer ‘means’ to the world — what his image signifies, what it means to be a Mayer fan — is shaped by this event. In concert with his other lightharded, self-depricating, whimsical tweets, this particular event contributes to an image of Mayer as fun-loving, whimsical, silly, etc. etc.
3.) This event will raise his visibility. Mayer has dated celebrities (Jessica Simpson, Jennifer Aniston, amongst others), he has treated them somewhat poorly, he has recorded several albums. But he is not a star. You might think that creating a Twitter trending topic out of a nonsensical word is a silly and forgettable. This will and already has put Mayer’s name in the papers — which is exactly why Mayer maintains a solid Twitter presence. Do not discount the fact that he is prepping to release a new album — whose process he has been keen to Tweet over the past few months, and which he’s been posting regular Youtube musings/updates (see below). As I allude to in my Flow piece, the development of a Twitter ‘personality’ (which contributes powerfully to your non-Twitter image) is the new frontier for those stars hovering between the A- and B-list.
Mayer-produced video on ‘Battle Studies,’ his forthcoming album
4.) One tweet can control the discourse of millions. Usually such discursive power is reserved for presidents, enormously popular movies, and catchphrases from viral videos. We could liken the virality of the Tweet to the flash mob, but the reach of the celebrity tweet is far broader — and less action-based. A flash mob is PHYSICAL — people DO things. Whereas those ‘celebrating’ pedamundo are hanging out, drinking, being happy — it’s more a recognition of a state of mind than a pillow fight in the middle of San Francisco, a no-pants subway ride, the recreation of the Beyonce Single Ladies Dance in Piccadilly Circus, or the ‘Hammertime’ invasion of a Sunset Boulevard store.
[Quick digression: While the pillow fight and the no-pants subway ride are ‘authentic’ versions of the flashmob phenomenon, the last two are in fact commercially-sponsored ‘events’ to promote products: Trident for the former, AE’s Hammertime show for the latter. The producers of each realized the viral potential of a YouTube rendering of the event — note that the Hammertime video is skillfully edited and shot in HD — and thus co-opted the markers of the ‘authentic’ flashmob (diversity of participants, astonished reaction from those in the area) to best market their product. This is obviously in the future for Twitter — but how, and when? One answer might be that it’s already occuring: the product John Mayer is selling IS HIMSELF.)
5.) Finally, ‘Pedamundo’ will likewise contribute to the image of Twitter. Someone recently commented on another FlowTV piece that “Ashton Kutcher is the worst thing to happen to Twitter.” For those deeply invested in the image of Twitter as a powerful social networking tool (and different in scope and function than Facebook) I can see how this would be true. But for better or for worse, millions of users signed up for Twitter as a result of the Kutcher/CNN race — and much of its ‘popular,’ non-media-industry allure is rooted in celebrity contact.
While I’m certainly biased in considering the star/follower interaction (and the discourse about it) as the most interesting thing happening in the ‘Twitterverse,’ I also don’t think that it necessary takes anything away from the other (very valuable) functions of the site. I follow Kutcher, Mayer, and several other compelling stars — but I’ve also made contact with dozens of scholars in my field, many of whom I’d be otherwise wary of ‘friending’ on Facebook (too personal) or sending an email (too formal).
So maybe I’ll post on Miley Cyrus’s “break-up tweets” some time in the future. They’re too hilarious to be ignored.
Just a taste…
In the meantime, I’d love your feedback and/or feelings towards this particular phenomenon — and the perception of celebrity tweeting (and its effect on star text in general).